Welcome To The 73rd Annual Hunger Games!
by Four Leafed Clove
Summary: 12 year old Finn has been chosen to represent District 3 in The 73rd Annual Hunger Games. Fearing for her life, she must prove she isn't any old 12 year old.
1. The Reaping

I wake up again in the same old District 3. I'm bored, but I don't care. My bed is lumpy and I wake up slowly, taking in the surroundings. I should know them by now, as I've lived here as long as I can remember, but the routine has become a habit. I duck back under the covers, wishing for this day to end. It's the day of the reaping.

The reaping is horrible, and I'm scared stiff. It's my first time entering. I entered four times. Once because I had to, and the other times for tesserae for my mother, my father and I. I don't want to be a contender at all. I'm only twelve years old!

My reaping dress is laying on the edge of my bed. I creep out slowly and smooth it out. There's a beaded necklace lying there, and I pick it up. It's all different colours, with the beads carefully sewed on. I smooth out my hair so it's normal and wavy and clip on the necklace. Also laying there is a beautiful blue – purple dress with wavy material and roses on the waist. I gush, amazed at how beautiful it is. It is indeed a luxury. There are also small cream shoes that barely fit my large feet. I spin around, once, twice, three times in it, truly amazed. Each bead itself is extremely expensive, let alone the dress and the shoes. The fabric is soft and runs through my fingers with ease.

"Do you like it?" I hear a voice ask me. I turn around to see my mother smiling at me.

"Of course!" I cry, flinging myself into her arms, feeling so vulnerable. I'm usually not one for dresses, but this is a huge exception. She strokes my hair and ties it into a couple of braids. We all dress up, even though it is hours until the reaping. My stomach growls impatiently. I notice mother's pale face and slightly oversized stomach. It confuses me for a second, but I get over it as we saunter out to the kitchen. To my extreme surprise my father is awake.

"Father, is there food?" I moan. He shakes his head and I groan. I wish there was some source of food. I am not used to being this hungry. My father's company makes phones and he gets lots of money. But there was a downfall in the economy and the money went down. I let out a small cry and my stomach growls again. I double over, trying to get it to stop. My head is spinning and I ache for food. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning.

We normally have food. But we've eaten all the tesserae and the food we can afford. Mostly we ate all of it yesterday, because I was dead nervous. I still am. Me? A tribute? Freaky. I begin to shake from the withdrawal and before I know at an orange – green liquid is pouring out of my mouth.

"It's just nerves," My mother assures me, and I hope so. She cleans it up with some rags which are my clothes from when I was younger. I watch awkwardly. She shouldn't be cleaning up my mess.

"We've got electricity," My father announces. I grumble. Being in District 3 we often have power that the Capitol does not need, although occasionally it goes to District 1,2 and 4, as they are the Capitol's lapdogs.

We sit around the table, watching the entertainment on TV before the power turns off. There is coverage of the reapings. About twenty volunteers volunteer in District 2. It's live, I know, because there's a small time difference between us, something like two hours. The power turns off before we can see which volunteer is granted the terror – or, to them, honour, - of being a tribute.

Then we sit in awkward silence, each of us knowing the fate that lies ahead. Two innocent children. No need to explain more. I want to scream from the pain in my belly, but I refrain from doing so. I walk around the house, touching every wall, taking in every detail, because I might never see this again. The idea of it haunts me. I try to conjure good memories, but all that comes flooding are memories of fatigue and hunger. I sit on my bed and cry. I fling myself backwards and cry more. I don't want to go. I bang on the bed at the unfairness of it all. My stomach growls again and I cry harder, wishing I could just disappear. Eat. Never have to face the terror of my name being put in that taunting see through bowl and my name possibly being called out for all the District to see.

One boy and one girl, sacrificed. Twenty – three innocent children dead. They shouldn't be. The Capitol is a monster. How could they? And why is History always about how much we owe the Capitol? They owe us! We're the ones who sacrifice our children! My head spins as these thoughts circulate my brain. How dare they? Oh, goodness, that must be illegal to think that. My mother comes in and holds me on her arm. I scream and cry into her chest for what seems like hours. My head hurts and I wish the world was only us three; my father, my mother and I. There's no need for anyone else to ruin my life.

"Please," I beg, "Don't let me go," I yell. My mother runs her hands through my matted hair and somehow drags me to the horrid events. I kick and scream as they drag me into the square. The outskirts are filled with factories and homeless elderly and children and adults alike, all huddling together, begging for scraps. I wonder if Jeremy and his family suffered this fate.

Once we get there, I hug my parents tightly, nearly suffocating them, and look into their eyes telling them I love them. They nod silently. I can't believe I let them bring me here. To this death sentence. To the place some child will scream as they walk up the steps, crying. I'm about to yell at them when they call for the last people who are entering to get to their stations. I give them a fleeting hug before scampering off to the reaping. I am scared stiff. My brown hair flicks around in the wind.

I walk with the other children to the line where we sign in. I sign in, shaking and shivering. The woman at the desk gives me an almost pitying look. I try to hide myself amongst other 12 year olds.

My ears prick up to the sound of a microphone booming and suddenly the stage holds all of my attention. Our Mayor, Mayor Dree, begins to talk about the history of Panem, a country that rose up from the ruins of North America, which sounds like a much more fun place, came the shining Capitol and thirteen districts. But, the thirteenth rebelled and was defeated. Anger bubbles up in my chest, but I manage to keep it controlled.

Then comes our escort, Kili Broat, a woman from the Capitol. Her hair is flaming red and in curls that come down to her waist. Her skin is matching red and her eyes are purple. She wears an ugly brown jumpsuit with pink frills. I make a face at her silly Capitol outfit. What are they thinking? I am disgusted they can dress themselves up while we slave away. I despise her. What do they do in their spare time? Anything but dress up? I wonder what she thinks as she walks out on that stage, knowing two children in the crowd will be raised for slaughter by her.

"Good morning! Happy Hunger Games! And may the chances be forever your way!" Kili says in her silly accent. Her lips are bright red and quiver when she speaks. I groan. Just looking at her face makes me want to puke. I stand tall, refusing to give in to my - what would be considered childish - ways of laughing at her. But some of us can't help it and burst out laughing. I give a small smile, while a girl from school next to me laughs with the majority of the rest of us. Kili seems the tiniest it deflated but continues on her rant.

"It is such an honour to be here," She begins, and then she goes on and on about it. I, small girl I am compared to the Capitol, wonder what they tell them? Is the Capitol crazy? We all know she's itching to go to District 1! Why doesn't she just say it? They confuse me lots. I listen to her rant for goodness knows how long before she finally gets to the point I've been dreading. The reaping. I look to the crowd for support. I see my mother and father with my near – orphan cousin, Monique, who is seven. She must have found them. Her father is dead – he blew up in a factory explosion three years ago – and her mother deathly ill, as well as her older brother, Tory, who is ten. I wave but know she won't see me.

"Now, now, boys first!" She calls to the audience. The drunken people who will bet, no doubt, roar in happiness. I let out an angry shout of protest which is ignored by the people staggering over each other. I want to crawl away, but I can't. I force myself to watch her pull out an unlucky boy's name. Though I am glad it is not girls first.

"Mariea Fugin!" She calls. A stocky, short boy with ash blonde hair climbs the stairs with shaking legs. A look of horror has crossed his face and it looks as if he wants to scream. He sits down on the first chair he sees. Kili blushes, but ignores the embarrassment this boy has caused her. I can see tears springing in the corners of his eyes. I feel sorry for the poor boy, being the cause of embarrassment and having to compete. Life is difficult. Especially for him. I wonder how he's feeling and hope I don't join him.

"And now for the lucky lady!" She laughs, putting her hand in the bowl uncaringly. I stare at her as if she was mad. Lucky? Completely the opposite! Like lucky is a synonym for dead.

_Please don't let it be me, _I think desperately. _Please. Not twelve year old me. _

"Good luck," Tina Wilson, a girl I know briefly from school and the girl who's standing next to me whispers. I nod silently. She pulls her red hair out from its neat braid in nervousness. I wish I had the guts to do that. My mother would get extremely angry if I wrecked it.

"You too," I whisper, barely audible.

I look up at the giant screens that are everywhere and I see the cameras are sweeping over us. I shut my eyes tight shut.

What if I am elected? The thought rushes through my body like the flu. Goosebumps itch up my arms and legs. My life may as well be over. I won't win. I'm only twelve years old. The careers train their whole entire lives for this moment! If I'm called out I'll be dead in a day, maybe less. The Careers would pick me off easily. I'm no good with a weapon, unless you count knife – throwing, which could switch over to a spear. My father taught me that. I hope I learn something in the well – known but secretive Training Centre.

"Finn Lardar!" She calls. I scream as the guards pick me up. I'm competing. I see my parents fight against the guards. My father continues to struggle, but my mother falls to the ground weeping. I reach out my hand as if it will bring them close to me. I feel them drag me up the stairs and I let out another scream. Just how I imagined.

"MOTHER! FATHER! MONI!" I scream. Moni is my nickname for Monique. My voice echoes around the square and then they plop me down on a chair next to Mariea.

"Help," I whisper to him. He seems electrocuted at the fact that I'm talking to him. He shrugs uncomfortably, his eyes wide. I hear a high – pitched scream and know it's Moni. She's screaming one thing; my name.

My thoughts take over me. How could they? What have I done to them? Rage takes over my body as they ask for volunteers. When Kili pauses to see if anyone dares, I run up to her impulsively. I tug on her frills and she gives a high pitched scream. They drag me back as they District laughs happily. I smile, but I still do not feel avenged. I want her to know she's ruining lives. I scream again, hoping someone will take pity and volunteer. I feel embarrassed and angry. The boy stares at me with wide eyes.

"You dare to?" He asks in a quiet voice. I nod, not wanting to speak.

"No volunteers then," Kili grins, smoothing out her jumpsuit. I scream and burst into tears. THIS IS NOT FAIR! The crowd seems to be in a stir because of my actions. I ignore it. The anthem plays. Mariea and I stand up through the anthem, both angry. The mayor begins to read out the treaty of treason. I am bored and I slowly sit back down, although it is required I stand up. Although, frankly, I don't give a damn.

"Are you okay?" I ask Mariea, trying to make friends. He shrugs and in a second his eyes are off me and staring into the crowd. I know how he feels. The mayor finishes reading the most boring list in the world. I half – heartedly wish it went for longer, so the screaming unfairness of our fates would sink in. Before we know it, the guards drag Mariea and I into custody.

We're marched through to the justice building and I try to escape. I try to crawl under their feet, but they're stuck to me like glue. They direct me to a room filled with so many materials I cannot name. I lay down on a metal bench which is located in the centre of the rich room, feeling oh so out of place. I lay on it staring up at the ceiling, wondering who my guests will be. Will I even have guests? The thought dances around my head.

Jeremy? It's possible. Jeremy is my best friend and confidante. I don't know how I'll cope without him. He's one year older and I met him two years ago at school.

I'd been racing to the bin to dump a piece of dried apple scrap I'd found on the ground. Being a gentleman, he lifted the lid up. I was halfway through dumping the apple in there when my blunt blue eyes met his sparkling green eyes.

They'd been fixated to the apple scrap, and just by looking at his hollowed – out face you could tell he was hungry. He watched me, silently begging for food. I'd slowly lifted my hand away, and his eyebrows narrowed quizzically. I gave him the scrap. He smiled.

"Thank you," He whispered, his brown hair flipping from side to side. I knew it wasn't enough, though, especially if he was feeding a family. And, as I found out later, he was. Two younger brothers and three younger sisters, not to mention his mother and father and his grandmother.

"I can show you more," I whispered, grinning at the thought of finally making a friend. He gave a small smiled and followed me to the goldmine of food I'd found when I was seven. A patch of strawberries. The trees were native, and birds often carried the seeds to that particular area, which was helped when I put a birdbath there.

"Wow," was his remark when I showed him the patch. We'd scooped up most of the strawberries, leaving a few for seeds to come from.

"My name is Jeremy," He whispered as we'd picked the plants. I gave him the first smile of many.

"I'm Finn," I told him, stopping picking the delicious fruits and staring him in the eyes.

"Finn?" He questioned.

"Yes," I said, frowning.

"That sounds like a nickname," He laughed. I smiled and before long we were rolling around the patch.

I smile at the memory. He was my first friend. My best friend. My growling stomach interrupts my thoughts. I remember I'm starving. I await my first guest. And boy does it surprise me.

It's the butcher from 'The Goh,'. I've traded strawberries for meat before. He's smiling.

"You alright?" He asks stiffly. I nod.

"I got you some meat," He smiles. I take the small paper bag he's holding out to me and look into it. There's some chicken and some lamb with the fat on. I'm stunned.

"Thank you," I say, grinning.

"I hope you win," He says, patting me on the back, "You poor thing,". I blush.

"I sure hope so too," I say, and find myself giggling. He gives a small nod, then exits the room. I eagerly start chewing on some of the fat. It's lovely. It seems to quench my anger. Then, my mother, Moni and father walk in.

"Sweetheart," My mother gasps, squeezing me into a tight hug.

"Honey," My father says, and my mother and I break apart. Moni seems to be quiet and I know why.

"Here," I say, handing over the chicken, "Dinner,".

"Keep it," My father urges, but I refuse to take it.

"Finn's right," Moni squeaks to my father, "We'll be family to a victor soon. We need it. They'll treat her well in the Capitol,". I nod in agreement.

"Monique, I'm giving it to her!" My father booms, "She needs it!"

"No!" I yell, pushing it into my hands. My father looks guilty but obeys.

"Oh, honey," He sighs.

"I love you guys," I say, ignoring him. My parents nod.

"Stay alive," My father instructs. I nod. What else is there to say?

"You'll win, won't you?" Monique asks hesitantly. I nod.

"Give my love to your mother and Tory," I instruct. She whimpers and nods, not daring to interrupt me, her favourite cousin.

"Time's up," A Peacekeeper growls. Moni screams and squeezes me. My parents embrace me before walking out obediently, not wanting to cause trouble.

"Get out," The Peacekeeper yells, nudging her violently. My parents watch, eyes wide. Moni stares at me.

"Go," I urge.

"I love you, and miss you already," She says, loosening her grip and slowly removing herself from me.

"Same," I whisper. Tears flow out of her eyes and stream down her face and she plods out unhappily.

"Is that it?" I ask the guard. He shakes his head and I give an exasperated sigh. Next in is Tina.

"Tina?" I ask, confused. She smiles.

"A token," She says, and hands me a small golden ring with a bird on it. A mockingbird, I think.

"Thank you," I say, smiling and putting the token on my hand.  
"Good luck," Tina says, squeezing me into a tight hug.

"Thanks," I whisper. Tina gives me a small smile and leaves. The ring is golden but the mockingbird is silver and seems to be stretching it's wings, trying to fly away. I examine it closely, and push on it. It opens and I find a picture of my family on one side, and a picture of Tina, Jeremy and I together on the other. I grin and shut it, fiddling with it absent mindedly.

The next person to come in is Jeremy.

"Jeremy!" I cry, flinging myself into his arms. He looks surprised but returns my hug.

"Finn," He grins, "Nervous?"  
"Completely," I mumble into his shirt, my thoughts echoing through my head. I wonder how on earth he'll cope without me. And me without him. We're inseparable most of the time, so it'll shock us to the bone. It'll be a wakeup call.

"It's going to be okay," He tells me, hugging me tighter. I nod slightly, tears spilling out of my eyes. I fill like a little girl, weak, humble. And, to use Hunger Games terms, I'm a target. A corpse.

"Get ready to see my dead body," I try to joke through my tears.  
"That's not going to happen," He promises me. I hug him tighter, wishing for this moment to never end. I feel safe. Everything I would say seems to be spoken through this hug. Everything is left unsaid. There's no need to explain.

It's strange, the connection Jeremy and I have. We understand each other completely, yet there's a difference. And I can't explain what that is. It's not love, we're much too young for that. But it's… something. I don't know what.

Finally, after what seems like forever and a day, we break apart.

"Don't let them starve," I beg, "My parents… And Moni, don't forget about her!" I instruct. He nods.

"Bye, Finn," He whispers, wiping away the tears that cover my face, "I'll see you on the big screen," This comment sends me crying hysterically. He actually believes I can make it. When I'm so small compared to the rest.

"Don't forget me," I whisper in a strained voice. He nods and my hearts pounds quickly.

"Time's up," The peacekeeper hisses. The air's so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Tears pour down my face as Jeremy is dragged away.

"Jeremy!" I scream. They drag him out and I fall to the ground, still screaming. I can faintly hear Jeremy still yelling my name.


	2. The Train Ride Part 1

They drag me into a train station and push me on. Kili escorts me to a small room with buttercup yellow sheets and glass stained walls with paintings of the Capitol hung all over the room. There is a small tray of food in the centre of the room with a packet of strawberries, and some plain biscuits, which look like they might have sugar in them, which would be amazing. I've only ever had sugar once, and that was when Wiress, a former tribute and victor, won the games when I was three. The Capitol had flown one of their hovercrafts over the main square and through down delicacies such as sugar and salt in sacks so that they landed perfectly in the square.

I'd rushed straight for the sugar sack, my father chasing after me, scared he might lose me in the overwhelming crowd of people rushing everywhere. I had sat on the sack and waited for him to catch up.

"Food for me and daddy and mummy!" I'd clapped when my father had rushed over. He checked me for bruises or cuts and when he was sure I wasn't hurt and was okay he picked me up in one arm and the small sack in the other. He'd carried both me and the sack over to my mother in ease, which I suppose came from working with machinery for so long and for most of the time, then we ate it in every meal we had. I think even the Capitol would be shocked at how much we ate sugar with. It was the best few weeks of my life.

"Wow," Is all I seem to be able to mumble out. The room is truly amazing and is the most wonderful and delicate room I've ever been in, although I bet it is poor to those of Capitol residence, as it is quite small. But I like it. It gives me a sense of comfort and happiness, although that doesn't seem to stop me from being frightened about the fate of my unstable life.

"It is quite grand, I would imagine, to those disgusting excuses you tributes would normally call 'homes,'" She sniffs disapprovingly.

How dare she?! My house is not a disgusting excuse! My heart beats heavily against my chest, threatening to come out and I take in a deep breath.

"Well, I'm just going to eat, so if you could get out, I would really appreciate it!" I snap, although it is a lot kinder then what I was going to say. She looks at me, tremendously offended and, I bet, in shock that I spoke to her like that.

"I – Yes, fine!" She tries to compose herself as she stomps out of the small room. I slam the door shut and fall in an extremely unladylike manner onto the bed.

The bed takes my weight and doesn't creak, and I can't hear the springs rusting away like I can in my own bed. It is comfortable and not lumpy at all and it fits my shape, adjusting so it supports me perfectly. It's like I always imagined floating on a cloud would feel like when I was younger. It feels like you're weightless, without a care in the world…

…But that's the problem. My life is at stake here. And no one even cared enough to volunteer for me. Not one person.

But Jeremy would have. I know. I could see it in the look in his eyes when we said goodbye for what might be the last time. I could see he didn't think it was fair. I could tell he'd do anything to make sure that it was him up there and not me.

But there wasn't anything he could do. Nothing at all. He could only watch me starve on TV, killed in the first days, maybe even minutes.

That's how I'll die. That's how they always die. The twelve year olds. Killed by Careers at the Cornucopia the moment the dong sounds. Always. And nothing I can do will change that. Ever.

But maybe I should try and win. It would be good, to win. To not die. But winning almost certainly means killing someone else. And I cannot at all, ever bring myself to kill somebody. Even if they deserve it.

It's simply despicable. I don't want to take someone's life and cause their families to grieve, their families' hearts to be ripped out. I just can't do that. Killing… It's not right. Not natural.

I turn over again and scream into my pillow. What have I ever, ever at all done to deserve this? Nothing. Nothing at all. I've never stolen or killed. Not even killed an animal, unless you count when you step on an ant as killing. Which I don't.

Maybe I could just hide until it's all over. I wouldn't get any sponsors, that's for sure, but whilst everybody else is killing each other I hide. Then they all die and I win.

But I need sponsors. And to get gifts you have to do interesting things. But I'm not interesting at all! What would they want with a stupid little twelve year old?

"Excuse me?" Mariea's voice asks, nicely complementing a quiet but yet still noticeable knock at the door.

"Yeah?" I ask, "Come on in,"

He sits on my bed and stares into my eyes, creeping me out, although I can tell that he's just as scared as I am about my fate.

"I've decided we have to stick together," He says, a blush creeping over his delicate face just from saying a few words, "To win together,"  
"That's outrageous," I comment at his last remark, "There can only be one winner,"

"Maybe we can change that," Mariea presses, "Defy them,"  
"What?" I demand, defending myself, "No. We can't do that! They'd crush us like bugs in an instant!"

"What? Do you want us to be killed?" He asks, and I instantly know I've offended him. But how could he take it that way? I don't want anybody to be killed any more than he does!

"No," I pause, "But… That'd be defying the Capitol, you know!"  
"So?" He asks, a hint of sarcasm and casualty riddled inside his voice, "Maybe that's what we need?"  
"Mariea! They could be watching us right now!" I scowl, the idea flooding into my head. I instantly know they are and my stomach begins to flip in circles, bouncing along to the rhythm of the train as it scatters pebbles and rocks around.

"I suppose," He sighs and stomps out of the room. My head is spinning so I pop a biscuit into my mouth and feel the sugar explode into sweetness on the tip of my tongue.

But the idea still rings in my mind, _"So? Maybe that's what we need…" _Is it? He could be right. No more games… But who would be that bold, that brave to do that? No one I know. Jeremy?  
Maybe. Just maybe. Jeremy, I know, is sick of the games. But if he would dare defy them… Would he? It's possible. But the consequences, the repercussions…

The only thing holding him back would be his family. I can tell. The consequences for them would be unimaginable, and Jeremy is too nice, too thoughtful to let his family suffer like that. It'd hurt himself too much. He would never put his family in that much danger. Ever.

Would I? Every second the idea of a rebellion seems more likely and like a better idea. But no, I couldn't do it.

Suddenly, we start rumbling into a station. I read the sign hanging out my window and I realise we're in a different district. District 5.

We could be nearly at the Capitol by now, but, according to my geography teacher when we are selected as tributes we go to our border and follow the border around five, then we run along the border of eight, then eleven, then nine and ten. Then we ride along the border of one and two before we can get to the Capitol. It's because they want to show us as many of the other tributes' homes as possible because they want to punish us more, for we were one of the major districts involved in last time's rebellion, which is unspeakable in District 3, in case we start another, which is the Capitol's worst fears.

The only Districts we don't see are seven, six, four and twelve. That's because District 8 and 11 separate them away from us.

District 5 seems to go on forever with the factories strongly replicating those of District 3. The people are nowhere to be seen, probably all making power in those factories. I shudder. I've heard that children as young as eight can go to work in District 5, and you can drop out when you're ten. I bite my lip and quickly dip a strawberry in chocolate and throw it into my mouth to sooth me.

I dig my fingernails into my palms, causing me pain I know I have to ignore. It'll be worse in the games, having injuries from the wild and even the other tributes themselves. Maybe even Mariea will try to kill me because I don't want to defy the Capitol. It is possible.

"May I come in?" Kili asks. Without waiting for an answer, she pushes the door open, lays down some bread next to the strawberries and walks away. I lean over the bread to examine it, but I'm not impressed. It's just stupid old District 3 bread. Normal.

I take a bite into the bread but it's already whole in my mouth. The District 3 bread is small and bite sized, but it makes it easier to eat while you're working in the factories, I suppose. Either that or our bread makers are really stupid.

In just a few minutes I've gulped down all of the bread and my hunger is almost satisfied. I dip one last strawberry in chocolate and eat one more sugar cookie, as I have named them, and then my stomach is no longer grumbling. It is a strange satisfaction, not being starving.

Soon we leave District 5 platform and are on the road again. I'm desperately lonely.


	3. The Train Ride Part 2

Soon we leave District 5 and start heading off down another straight track. I decide to turn on the television. They've got live coverage of District 8's reaping. From what I can tell they've just finished the covering of District 4's reaping, which happens to be half an hour ahead of District 8. It's an ugly, urban district and people look very tired.

They call out girls first. I don't hear the girl's name because my eyes are too fixed on her. She looks about fourteen years old. She's strong and lean and has got the thickest black hair I've ever seen. Her green eyes stare into the crowd, darting around, looking for family.

"Jessie!" A girl my age shouts out. She breaks into a run and lets out a loud, high pitched wail. She tries to escape past the peacekeepers, but they easily pick her up. She squirms in their arms. One peacekeeper nods to another and suddenly a bullet enters the girl's head. She goes bug eyed and flails her arms in one last try to get to her sister before she goes completely limp.

Jessie, the girl who was reaped, and a sixteen year old in the crowd start screaming. A woman in the crowd faints and a man who was standing next to her leans over and catches her. I shut off the TV immediately.

That is scary. Seriously scary. They shot a girl just for calling out to her sister. A girl my age. Suddenly I hear a conversation taking place outside of my door.

"She saw that. She shouldn't have seen that,"

"Should we give her the injection?"  
"Yes. This could lead to very dangerous things if we refrain from doing so,"  
"Alright," Kili opens the door and puts on a sickeningly sweet smile, "Excuse me, Finn, could you please follow me?"  
"I just saw a girl my age shot on live TV," I say bluntly, "I don't really want to do anything right now,"

"It was a rhetorical question!" She snaps in her silly Capitol accent. I stand up and follow her into another room.

The white lights are almost blinding and there are two white recliners in the middle of the room. Mariea and I are both instructed to lay back in them, so we do.

"Alright," Kili claps her hands, "We are just going to give you a quick jab to make sure you're fine,"  
"As in healthy?" Mariea asks. Kili ignores him.

"It won't hurt, so don't panic," She instructs us before moving out of the room. Two doctor looking people come in. Mariea and I are separated by a dark green curtain. One doctor leans over me with a needle in his hand.

"It won't hurt," he assures me, though I doubt he's right. The needle jabs into me and everything goes black.


End file.
